Trouble in Paradise

"Doesn't make her ass ugly," Suitcase said.

"Good point."

In ten minutes, Molly stuck her head into Jesse's office.

"Lieutenant Travis Randall on line one, Jesse."

Jesse picked up.

"Travis?" he said.

"Jesse, how ya doing?"

"You got promoted."

"Had to happen sooner or later," Randall said.

"Hell you got to be chief."

"Says so right on my desk plate," Jesse said.

"Your old man still around?"

"No."

"Sorry to hear that."

"Thanks, he's been gone a while. I'm looking for anything you might be able to tell me about a guy named Wilson Cromartie.

Lives in Tucson."

Jesse gave him the street address.

"Familiar name," Randall said.

"Lemme punch him up here."

"You're working a computer, Travis?"

"Goes to show you," Randall said.

"You can teach an old dog new tricks."

"Guess so. I'm going to put you on speaker phone."

"Sure."

Jesse punched the speaker phone button and hung up the receiver. Suitcase sat across the desk from him, listening to the airy silence of the speaker phone. Being a policeman excited him.

Working on even the small-town cases he got to work on was thrilling to him, and he watched Jesse who had been a big city cop in Los Angeles as if he were magical. Randall's voice came back.

"Yep that's him. Crow."

"Short for Cromartie?"

"I suppose," Randall said.

"But he spells it C-R-O-W. Claims he's an Apache Indian."

"Is he?"

"Could be. You can see Indian in him."

"Tell me about him," Jesse said.

"He's a bad man," Randall said.

"Contract killer."

"Co

"Freelance. He's good. Gets plenty of work."

"Warrants?"

"Nothing outstanding," Randall said.

"Hard to get anyone to say anything about Crow."

"You got a description?"

"Black hair, brown eyes. Six feet, hundred and ninety pounds.

Muscular. Indian features. Very neat. You seen him or just the car?"

"I saw him," Jesse said.

"Be very fucking careful of him, Jesse."

"Sure."

"Whether he's got a gun or not," Randall said.

"Okay. You got any idea what he might be doing here?"

"

"Here' is around Boston?"

"Yeah."

"Not that I know about. Lemme look some more."

Again Jesse and Suitcase listened to the sound of silence ru

"Here's something," Randall said.

"He was convicted of armed robbery along with a guy named James Macklin. Knocked over a liquor store in Flagstaff. Macklin is listed as being from Dorchester, Mass."

"Part of Boston," Jesse said.

"They do time?"

"Three years in Yuma."

"Both get out?"

"Far as I know."

"Anything else on Macklin?"

"Nope."

"Description?"

"Nope."

"Okay, Travis, thank you."

"No problem," Randall said.

"I'll keep sniffing around out here.

I come across anything else, I'll call you."

"Do that," Jesse said.

"And Jesse, don't you or anyone try to take Crow alone. He don't care if you're a cop or not."

"Would you try to take him alone, Travis?"

"Absolutely not."

"We'll be cool," Jesse said.

"And don't be a stranger, boy. Your father and I was pretty tight.

Betty and me be happy to have you visit."

"Thanks, Travis. I'll keep it in mind."

Jesse leaned over and switched off the speaker.

"Suit," Jesse said.

"See what you can come up with on James Macklin of Dorchester."

"Whaddya think is going down, Jesse?"

"Maybe they're just having a reunion, Yuma, class of eighty eight Jesse said.

"Maybe it's got nothing to do with us."

"I'll bet it's the Paradise Bank, Jesse. I'll bet they're going to knock over the bank."

"We're not supposed to bet, Suit. We're supposed to find out.

So go find out about James Macklin of Dorchester, Mass."

Suitcase stood up.

"Yes sir, chief," he said.

"And you heard what Randall said about Crow. If Randall wouldn't go him alone..."

"Randall a tough guy?" Suitcase said.

"You have no idea," Jesse said.